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Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Cruel jokes of a cruel fate

No yesterday and no tomorrow. No past and no future, it's almost like they had never been. I find myself trapped in a present through which I cannot see, not forwards and not backwards. All the places I had once before known have disappeared into absolute nothingness. No evidence that they had ever existed but faint memories through curtains of blood and walls of shattering screams of human suffering. I ran away from that, I ran away like many of you, and like many of you intend or wish to do.

From the fear, from the almost monstrous disrespect to human life, I ran away for myself. Believing that I was given this life to live it, never to have it added as another statistic on a magazine page, never to have myself put down for no purpose at all. And from thereon I indulged myself with life, with minor loss of purpose perhaps, but with no less zest to live.

The words of a dear friend ring alive within …

"What I've seen from life made me believe it's just a way through. What matters is what we take to the grave"

And they're deeds, I suppose.

To live the day in total oblivion to life itself, to live the day like there is no tomorrow, and knowing that there might as well never be one. To live the day running from what lies beneath your own shadows, running from the hand that stabs or the eye that aims. To want to help those who appreciate no help, to want to help live at the price of your own life, to fear for others filling the void of your own life and driving you forward. It's almost sacred, almost divine and as selfless as humanly possible. Yet goes unseen, goes unappreciated even by its receptors.

To have a cold hand triggering a bullet through your brain while you have been working for those hands and others to live better is no way to die. To drive through twilight zones, risking the one soul you have to rescue others is beyond me. The courage it takes, the altruism, the determination and motivation and devotion is beyond me and I dare say beyond all of us.

You and I and many others have escaped, tried to or still hope and try to. But how many of us stayed there and stood in the line of fire, instead of staying and hating the world for it, hiding as well as possible? How many of us risked our own lives to safe lives? We have all thought life is precious, but none of us considered other lives than our own with the thought. The empty words coming from shelters, from safe exiles and new homes don't matter. The compassion and campaigning and writing and public-speaking, blabber and jitter and nonsense and absolutely nothing it is, stealing the lights from those who deserve them, those who work in the shadows yet achieve more than they have ever taken credit for.

I'm one of the few who had lost hope in all goodness in mankind, yet I realize now that there's still a good few of them. And they don't waste their lives on words. They have put their own lives on halt, on the fire line, to rescue others. I only pray and hope I will one day have the courage and devotion to spend the remainder of my life helping those who are really in need. Doing more than showing my feelings for a living. I guess I will always live wanting to find myself driven that way, with such oblivion to life itself. It's almost consecrated.If you pray, mention them in your prayers; if you hope, then keep your fingers crossed for no malice to ever come their way. For them to never leave behind a widow or an orphan because of their own devotion to save others from being widows or orphans. To never be left behind to die, or never be lead forward to die, in their determination to prevent people from dying.

You might wonder who they are, but if you look around, you might see them. And perhaps you already know who I mean. And it's a cruel joke of a cruel fate if you can remember those on the magazine covers on and offline, and not those who do the real labour, those who recieve the bullets and those who fall in their struggle. It's an even more cruel joke if you remember people like Ayatullah, whatever made him such a thing, Sistani or Al Hakim...What good have they ever done? Aren't they practically surrounded by paid-for guards to dodge bullets?! Too haugty to reach a hand to ease anybody's pain?!

And to my friend, you I will always remember with reverence, whether you're in this world or beyond.

30 comments:

and i spend times,, alone, praying for those that i dont know if they are in this world still, or moved to the other world they always dreamed to be in, carrying their good deeds.who to blame me for sheding tears?

Wow! Allow me to say that you are so talented. Your postings are very insightful and eloquent. I don't know how I didn't notice your blog earlier! Your " 101 of taking advantage ...." is splendid. It really drags my attention to connect more with the title of my blog... I hope I didn't f**k my blog up there!Deliah, you simply rock! ;)

Delilah, I think you might enjoy reading "The Diary of Ann Frank", perhaps you have already read it in translation.

There are those on both "sides", and in the middle too ;-) Always will be.And on another note, I only pray and hope I will one day have the courage and devotion to spend the remainder of my life helping those who are really in need.

I would say there is no worry that you will miss out on this opportunity, if you ask God to be tested, He will gladly test you.

Were it not for the cold, how would the heat of Thy words prevail, O Expounder of the worlds? Were it not for calamity, how would the sun of Thy patience shine, O Light of the worlds?a small quote from a Bahai prayer.

Just from my own thoughts, there is a purpose to everything. And we, the bystanders, the avoiders, the guilty, the innocent, are all part of the show. We have a free will to act, or not to. I don't think we need to think the only show is in Iraq. It is everywhere, even in your neighbor's eyes. The chance to act. It isn't necessary to be a life and death situation, as in a battlefield. It can happen as soon as you sign off line and decide whether to help whether to expect help. Whether to pretend you don't have time, whether to take time, to make time. This is our battlefield, within our heart, only one can live there. Death need not be physical, it can also be spiritual.

Which is better? To be physically alive and spiritually dead. or To be physically dead and spiritually alive? The choice is up to each of us, every day.

Hi Delilah, You are talented. You were able to put in words a dilemma that I’m sure so many of us been going through. I saw my soul in your words. Please, keep writing and do not let go or feel helpless. Your words are acts of kindness that I’m sure will flow to other Iraqis in need. You are the hope that will heal wounds and the future that will rebuild our country.

One land, one people, all asleepone dream in every mindall see words of scripture, captivein a vise of hatred, crusheddistorted words of God, acidtears, with screaming lips, the captorfeels the kiss of Satanon his heart.

“We are free to be freeTo make our own destinyTo shine like the sunTo become oneTo hide under the moonUnder in the gloomTo run with the deerTo make worry disappearTo listen and to hearTo love and to fearTo make our minds be clearTo laugh and to cheerTo travel and to steerIn the path we have chosenTo be hot or cold or even frozenWe are free to be freeTo make our own destinyAnd to look back from the finish lineAnd to shout with joy and not to whine.”(By Daniel Hooks)

Now, I have skimmed through the archive, but it's pretty monotounous and I cannot keep writing about a blog that is all the same. He's the All-Knowing Oracle, he warns and warns and people just never listen. Media's the green serpent that is sometimes mean and sometimes plain idiotic, while his majestic self carries on warning...et cetera.